Red Ghost
by Brooklyn1918
Summary: Natasha grew up in the red room, constantly striving to show her handlers that she was good enough. But her first solo mission goes horribly wrong, and she gets to experience the story of the ghost of the red room. Explicate language and gore, brief suggestive content.


"If you fail, just remember that the phantom will come."

The whispers reverberate off the walls, reaching the ears of every young girl in the red room. They all know to fear the ghost, it's a distant memory persistent in the minds of all the girls, remembering those that had failed before them. Their bodies returned with ghastly wounds in their chests, necks, and heads, marks as to where the ghost had stolen their lives. The trainees worked hard to complete their missions with the utmost efficiency, motivated by the rewards of keeping their lives.

"Watch out, or the ghost will come. With one swipe of his silvery arm he will strip you of your life, leaving nothing but a thin trail of blood."

Natasha kicked hard, sending her assailant across the room, landing silently on her feet. It was just another training exercise, but she wanted to show the red room the power of Natallia Romanova, hoping they would send her on her first solo mission. Her sparring partner pushed onto his feet, red liquid slowly trickling out of a wound on his temple. She smirked and rushed him again. As he was still kneeling on the ground, she swung her legs over his shoulders and sat stubbornly on his shoulders. She forced her arms around his neck, enveloping him in a chokehold. Her partner let out a revolting gurgle and Natasha bent to whisper hoarsely into his ear.

"Yield." she growled.

His hands groped at her arms for a few seconds before slapping her twice, signalling his defeat. With a satisfied smirk, she twisted her hands. With a spine chilling crunch, he fell to the floor, Natasha rolled to her feet and walking out of the room, leaving the corpse of the broken necked partner to rot on the training room floor.

It was the next week when Natasha got her first solo assignment. She was ecstatic, waltzing down the halls with the grace of a trained dancer. Spinning into her quarters she showed the mission briefing to her room partner. She widened her blue eyes, and looked to Natasha.

"Natallia, congratulations. I mean that, just be careful. If you fail…" Her words trail off as her face contorts into fear.

Natasha rolls her eyes at the girls nervous sentiment. The mission was easy, get in and take out the target, get out, and don't get seen. She had no reason to fear having the ghost called upon her.

"Even if I were to fail, I could take the ghost on. He doesn't scare me in the slightest." Natasha says as her green eyes flash with danger and cockyness.

She reads the file over and over again, memorizing the floor layouts and guard changes. She takes in every twist and turn of the ventilation system, and takes in exactly where the target is positioned. The plane ride gives her the rest of the time to prepare what she will need. Only a knife, seeing as how the mission is to be performed in total silence. The only catch is that the extraction would not be able to take place for another week. She would have to take out the target then lay in wait for her ride to come.

The plane lands and she is set into the world at top speed, her feet pounding down the airstrip carrying her with the freedom of a caged bird let to roam the open skies. The cold Russian air stings at her face, and her sweat quickly turns to ice, but she couldn't care less. The city looms out of the night like a shipwreck on the ocean floor, and is all but as dangerous as the stormy seas. Hundreds of tall buildings pierce the sky, and their lights twinkle, replacing the stars above. Natasha launches up the nearest fire escape, and sets across the rooftops. She glanced at the small map she had been given, and viewed the city, mapping out her own path to the target.

Within minutes she has clambered into the vents of one of the countless buildings. With silent ease, she slips through the vents, bypassing the guards and slipping into the targeted room. Drawing the black blade, she wraps her hand around the mouth of her victim. His pulse quickens as he is held into his office chair, Natasha standing behind him. Her right hand holding the blade, she places it onto the left side of his exposed throat. With a push, it slides into his skin, spurting blood from the jugular vein. With a wicked grin, she pulls the knife to the right side of his throat. Unable to cry out, she wheels him around to face her. Blood bubbles out of the wound and his mouth, his chocolate eyes widened in terror.

The door slams open behind her, and as she looks, the alarm is raised.

"Shit, shit, shit. This is all wrong. You bastards weren't supposed to come in!" She yells.

Her cover has been made, and once the red room hears word of this, and they probably already have, they will send the phantom. She throws herself at the guards, and easily dodges the bullets and swiftly attacks each one with her knife. Screams reverberate around the halls, and blood stains every surface.

"Holy fuck, Its a damn kid!" Some of the men scream, looking at Natasha's age.

She twists her 13 year old body to kill another guard. Her smirk fading as the realization of her death is imminent.

She bursts out onto the frosty street soaked head to toe in blood, and looks to the roof tops. Forgoing the fire escape, she uses the walls of a narrow alley to leap back and forth to the roof. She sets off across the city, flying over roofs and alleys, running from God only knew what. Of course not the security guards, but from the ghost of whom she has heard so many controversial stories about. It's silver arms, and its black eyes. It's precision and speed. How could those things be true though? They had to be based on fact, or myth? Reports of the mysterious asset from the mother organization, Hydra, had been coming into the red room since world war 2.

Never spending more than one hour in each location, she manages to find a place to clean herself and a fresh set of clothes, trying to set herself off the grid. She traveled by roof, stopping to rest every so often in the cold air. Even if they didn't send the phantom after her, she would still have to wait a week before she could be extracted. She leans against an air unit, looking at the moonlight settling over the city, the sun fighting for its spot on the distant horizon. She looks to her feet as the shadows are cast across the roof from the breaking dawn. The silhouette of a person extends the length of the roof, Natasha leaping to her feet milliseconds before the figure goes to move. She looks u with a defensive glare into the face of who can only be one person. She stares into the face of the ghost.

He stands with his hands to his sides, one arm made of a strange metal. The black suit binds him into obedience. His bottom half of his face covered in a black mask. His long brown hair flops around the sides of his face. His eyes a dead icy blue, filled with a cloudiness of disconnected consciousness. Natasha hardens her face into a determined stare. If she is going down, she sure as fucking hell won't go out without putting up the biggest fight of her life. He bounds off the air unit and lands, but before he can take another step, Natasha lets out a rage filled yell, and launches herself at him, blade in fist.

They fight with the same efficiency, limbs moving faster and faster around each other. He has the grace of an assassin, but the movements and determination that only a soldier would have. At one point his mask is knocked off, revealing an emotionless face. The only sign that his is indeed human are the grunts and the twitching eyes. Natash knows she has to do something that will put her on top. She knows she won't be able to win. She grips his shoulders and launches herself up, wrapping her legs around the back of his head, and clasping her hands together, strikes her elbows on the top of his head. He grunts, and pushes her off him with his metal arm, and pinned her against the side of the air unit. Silver fingers wrapping around her throat, she pulls out the only thing left in her arsenal. She brings her knee up and into his gut, making him double over slightly. She then smashes her lips into his, momentarily dissorenting him.

She slips under his arms and begins to run, but she doesn't make it far. A soft thunk and a cold sensation, and she pulls the tranq dart from the side of her neck.

"Oh fucking hell." Is the last thing she says before collapsing in an unconscious state.

She woke up in a cold abandoned factory, tied to a chair. The ghost watches her from a corner, and her superiors stand in front of her. Natasha scowls at them with a look that could murder men.

"Natallia Romanova, we have been reported to by the soldier that you managed to stump him in battle." The officer pauses before he continues. "We didn't think that was possible."

Natasha lets her jaw fall slightly, so that only the soldier saw. Her face settles into sheer defiance, and she looks each one in the face.

"As your reward, you will occasionally be serving with the Winter Soldier on missions. And you will do whatever he tells you to do."

Natasha scoffs, but agrees to the terms.

Missions are a breeze with the two of them. They are killing machines, born into the night, and leaving no trace as to who might have committed the heinous crimes. He sometimes would be gone for months at a time, leaving her wondering where he would go. She would carry on her solo missions in his absence, and things would return to normal.

"Just know that if I ever lose you, you will be easy to find on account to your red hair. You might want to look into fixing that." He had said to her one cold mission.

She had smiled at his statement, and said that she would.

Then one day, he didn't come back from one of his abcencess.

She had confronted her handlers about his sudden disappearance, but was only greeted with angry shouts of telling her to forget about him.

She never did forget him though, and even as she had left to go join Shield, and she was forced to create new covers, she always kept her red hair. She kept it in hopes that wherever he was, the soldier would be able to find her again. So when the events of the Winter Soldier rolled around, she was conflicted in telling Steve just how much she had actually known about the soldier. And when she had confronted him about recognizing her, he did, and that is why he attacked so viciously. He had recognized her, and he was terrified. He was terrified because he couldn't remember her.

Natasha's head would swim with the memory of all the cold nights in Russia. And she would remember.

"If you fail, just remember that the phantom will come."


End file.
